


Suburban Home

by paragraph (ebcdic)



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Candles, Coming In Pants, Falling In Love, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hot Weather, Kissing, M/M, Power Outage, Skipping Class, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 11:55:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12747810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebcdic/pseuds/paragraph
Summary: Pete is almost unbearably close for Patrick's teenage hormones. The fact that it's got to be hovering in the high eighties in the basement doesn't help things. Patrick is hot and uncomfortable and he really wants to go home before he does something stupid like lick off the drop of sweat that's trailing down Pete's temple.





	Suburban Home

Just about the time that Patrick stands up to leave Pete's parents' basement and head home, the power goes out. Andy and Joe had left hours before, but as usual, Pete and Patrick got lost in songwriting and barely noticed their departure. Now they were sitting alone in the basement with only a couple of candles flickering in the dark. Pete had just barely managed to dig them out and light them without injuring himself. Patrick, meanwhile, shifts on the futon every time thunder crashes somewhere above them while Pete babbles on about how the atmosphere was great for writing. His newfound friend's enthusiasm is endearing, but Patrick has to be up for school tomorrow and he's a little worried about the math test that he hadn't bothered to study for at all.

"You okay?"

The sudden question is followed by Pete flopping down next to Patrick. Patrick slides over to make space, but Pete follows after him.

"Yeah," Patrick sighs softly.

Pete is almost unbearably close for Patrick's teenage hormones. The fact that it's got to be hovering in the high eighties in the basement doesn't help things. Patrick is hot and uncomfortable and he really wants to go home before he does something stupid like lick off the drop of sweat that's trailing down Pete's temple.

"You don't really sound okay."

Patrick tugs lightly at the collar of his shirt. "It's just hot down here, that's all."

The grin Pete gives him looks unnervingly like the same one he gives to girls he's trying to seduce. Patrick nearly gasps when Pete reaches over and slides his hand up under Patrick's sweater vest and palms his stomach through the shirt beneath. 

"Maybe if you weren't wearing so many layers."

Slowly, Pete's hand slides up, taking the sweater vest with it. Patrick bites his lip and looks away, toward the staircase. He's very aware that Pete's thigh is pressed hard up against his and he wants it to mean something, but he's sure this is just a joke of some sort. Some hazing ritual into the band that he had previously been exempt from. Except that Pete's hand keeps on sliding higher and his fingers are now encircling one of Patrick's nipples. 

"Pete…" The name comes out more of a moan than the question Patrick meant. 

Pete's lips graze his earlobe. "I just want to fuck you, Trick."

Fuck rolls off Pete's tongue like honey. The nickname, which Patrick had previously only barely tolerated, now sounds like a caress against his skin. Patrick wants to give in, but he has to make sure this isn't a joke, so he does the only thing he can think of: turn the tables. 

He turns toward Pete and slides one leg over Pete's lap, almost straddling him. His hands pin Pete to the back of the couch by his shoulders as he ghosts his lips against Pete's. 

"How about I fuck you instead, sugar?"

The sugar part is added in case this is a joke, so they can stop right here and laugh it off, but Pete doesn't laugh. He doesn't push Patrick away. Instead, he growls low in his throat as his hands pull Patrick fully into his lap. Patrick can feel the heat of Pete's skin through all their layers of clothes and gasps at the feeling. His hips automatically roll down as Pete pushes his hips up and the contact sends a jolt down Patrick's spine. He gasps Pete's name, holding his eyes until the very last second as he leans down to kiss him. Pete's mouth is wet and lush; Patrick thinks he tastes more like fire than the cinnamon gum he had been chewing hours before. 

If Patrick thought it was hot in the basement before, it's nothing compared to now. He rips off his sweater vest and shirt, feeling slightly self-conscious as he does. That feeling goes away the second Pete attacks his chest with his tongue and teeth. Every lick sends shivers down his spine and every bite makes him clutch for strands of Pete's hair, wanting the sensation again and again. His hips frantically push into Pete's, wanting more but knowing that he isn't going to last much longer. Stars sparkle behind his eyes as he comes; he thinks their constellation is the true beauty of Pete's soul. 

Everything seems so much darker after that and he wants to slump into oblivion about as much as he wants to get Pete off. He steadies himself with one hand on the back of the futon while the other reaches into Pete's shorts and grasps his cock, stroking it as steadily as he can manage. After a few seconds, Pete covers his hand and guides him. Patrick kisses Pete with hunger. By the time Pete comes, Patrick feels starved for him all over again. 

"Trick, Trick, Trick…" 

Pete keeps on repeating Patrick's nickname over and over like a mantra against his skin. Together, they slump sideways and curl up against each other on the futon, resting until their breathing evens out again. Patrick watches Pete the entire time, still partially waiting for the punch-line, but Pete just kisses his jaw. 

"I could fall in love with you, Trick."

It sounds like a line from a movie, but the sentiment makes Patrick smile anyway. He shakes his head slightly. "You're just tired."

"No, really."

The deep, unflinching honesty in Pete's eyes, barely visible in the glow of the candles, makes Patrick swallow hard. He reaches out and brushes a lock of hair out off Pete's forehead. Pete captures his hand and twines their fingers together. Patrick closes his eyes and lets himself drift off to sleep as Pete leans over to blow out the candles. 

They stay like that until the blinding rays of the sun hit them through the low basement windows. Patrick groans and blinks against the light. A few seconds later, he remembers that today is a weekday and he should probably be at school. Not to mention that he never bothered to call his parents last night. He rolls away from Pete and starts looking for his clothes. He's reaching for the sweater vest when Pete grabs him from behind and pulls him back into bed.

"Where are you going?"

Pete's voice is rusty with sleep. Patrick gently untangles himself from Pete's arms.

"I have to go to school, Pete."

"Why? You're already late, probably."

The words sound dangerously close to whining. Patrick glances over his shoulder at Pete and wonders what the hell he was thinking last night even as he struggles not to give in and kiss Pete. 

"Yeah and I was late last week too, so I really can't be today."

Pete sits up and frowns. "Sorry."

The sudden shift in mood makes Patrick frown. "Whatever, I've got to go."

Patrick spots his shirt and puts it back on with clumsy hands. After grabbing his backpack, he books it up the stairs and out of the house, sprinting down the drive toward his car. As he's trying to get the key to work in the lock, he makes the mistake of looking back at the house. Pete is standing in the doorway, half-naked. Patrick forces himself to take a deep breath and thinks that it should really be illegal for Pete to be standing there in just his underwear. He gives up on the keys and heads back up to the house, throwing his backpack into the foyer as he presses Pete against the wall. 

"Damn you."

When Pete smirks at him, Patrick leans in and kisses him hard, biting down into his lip, which just makes Pete moan. Patrick kicks the door shut with his foot, school completely forgotten.


End file.
